


Doesn't Take An Idiot To Realize (Or Maybe It Does)

by drowninginspace



Series: I'd rather go to Hell.  Especially since I won't be seeing you in Heaven. [1]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: 5+1 Things, Generation Kill Week, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 02:47:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11980455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drowninginspace/pseuds/drowninginspace
Summary: 5 times someone witnessed or thought something strange was going on with Ray and Brad and the 1 time someone was able to figure out what it was.





	Doesn't Take An Idiot To Realize (Or Maybe It Does)

1: Poke

Looking at the mess before him, all Poke could do was grimace and send a quick prayer to whoever the hell was up there that Colbert didn’t kill them. With that done, he turned around and began to sort through the current shit the blessed country of Iraq had currently bestowed upon them.

“Dawg, how retarded is this? You happen to want coffee at that exact moment and Person just happens to be standing there and he just happens to burn half his face off. You can’t make this shit up.” Shaking his head, he examined Ray critically, Doc currently putting some dressing on his face.

“I don’t know how this happened,” Rudy said, puppy dog eyes out full force. “Ray, brother, I hope you know that I would never do anything to harm you on purpose. You are a fellow warrior, your safety is of utmost importance to me.”

“We all know that, Rudy,” Poke cut in before Ray answered. “Doesn’t change the fact that the Iceman’s going to have all our asses. Seeing as you’re the one who just needed to operate an espresso maker, you can go and get him and tell him what happened on your way back. That’s punishment enough.” 

“Rest of you white boys,” he called, “stay in one place and be quiet. He ain’t going to be in a good mood. His bitching is bad enough, you don’t need to make it worse by making it seem that you don’t give a shit about our combat effectiveness. And look alert.”

With that taken care of, all they could do was look at Ray and wait. The burns weren’t too bad, human nature taking over and pulling him away before more damage could be done. Didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt, though, and it must, because Person hadn’t spoken a word in the 5 minutes that had taken place between then and now. While he’d enjoy some silence, he’d prefer it not to be like this. Shit, he felt bad for Person. It was one thing to suffer for country and comrade in the middle of a fight. Another thing completely to be taken down by a rogue espresso maker.

In this solemn silence, with each member of Bravo 2 aware that each step their team leader made towards the tent meant their impending doom, Brad entered with Rudy by his side.  
“Gentlemen,” he said, scanning the group, probably searching for Person and his messed up face.

Before he could say anything else, Hasser piped up. “The stove underneath Rudy's espresso pot went off like a 40 mike-mike.”

“Flamed white boy's face like a rotisserie chicken,” Tony added. It was best to get all the facts done and squared away, before the Iceman ripped all of them new assholes.

“Let me understand this. My RTO has just been burned, in his tent, by an exploding portable stove,” Colbert stated with disbelief, looking around for confirmations. “And without my RTO, I will be going to war, unable to quickly and effectively establish radio communications within our unit, with other elements of the battalion, and with close air support. Is this what is happening?”

Whether or not he was looking for an answer, Tony didn’t know. But seeing as the rest of these white boys weren’t about to answer anytime soon, he might as well jump in.

‘That, and they're probably gonna NJP all our asses for operating a stove in the tent against the regs,” Tony replied, watching Brad’s face shift from anger to annoyance to resignation. 

“Over an espresso maker?” he laughed. “This platoon is going down over an espresso maker? Unfuckingbelievable.” Shaking his head, he started to bellow orders and the rest of the platoon obeyed, breathing a sigh of relief at the fact that the worst of it was over and done with.

“Ray!” he barked, finally turning his attentions to Person. “Get your whiskey tango ass over here. I need to see if your in any condition to drive my humvee.” Muttering seemingly to himself, he said “I don’t need you to crash into a tree and get us all killed.”

“Doc already checked white boy,” Tony told Brad, Person making his way over to them nonetheless. “He said he’s good to go but shouldn’t move around a lot. Needs all the rest he can get.”

“While I trust Doc Bryan with the lives of this entire platoon, I would prefer to match his conclusion with one of my own.”

That being said, when Person finally planted his ass next to them, Brad guided him to one corner very carefully and sat him down. Then, proceeding with what many may call care or tenderness, he checked over Ray’s bandages and dressings, looking for any sign of extreme pain or discomfort. It was a strange scene and one that did not in any way shape or form bring either Person or Colbert to mind.

Shaking his head, Poke decided that he was just as drama deprived as the rest of these All-American, whisky tango motherfuckers. Muttering about how this desert air isn’t good for the mind, he walked away.

2: Reporter

Opening and closing his mouth in disbelief, all Reporter could do was watch the scene before him unfold.

“Lovin' you is easy cause you're bare-chested,  
Makin' love to you is all I wanna do,  
Lovin' you is more than just a dream come true,  
Everything that I do is out of love for you.  
La la la la la la la la la la la la la la lala la la la la.  
Do do do do do doooo.  
Aaah ah ah.  
Oooh!”

2 grown marines, both members of an elite killing force. One of them known as the Iceman, calm and collected under unmeasurable pressure. And yet here they were, singing radio pop songs about love in unbearably high pitched voices. Laughing and smiling, they were in a good mood once they’d finished. In turn, the rest of the humvee relaxed too. If it was a one time occurrence, the result of the high that was a part of invading a country, he could understand that.

It seemed, however, that it was anything but a onetime occurrence. All throughout the lineup of humvees, songs and voices carried by the wind could be heard, a jumble of sounds that was strangely comforting.  


Yet, there was something strange about the way Colbert and Person sang. It was right there in front of him, years of learning about journalism had taught him that. But what? There was a pattern here and if he could find the common thread… 

Observing all that happened in the front half of the humvee, Reporter though he might have something. Whenever singing or joking or laughing occurred, it was between Person and Colbert and seemingly no one else. They didn’t actively block out everybody else but with how well tuned with were at communicating with each other, it was rare for anyone to join in with them.

“Hey, Brad?” Ray started, giving his driving less focus than Evan would like. “Do your Big Gay Al for me. Come on, buddy! Do it for your old pal Ray, the one who made the right turn!” Ray cajoled him, nagging endlessly in a way that said he knew the outcome.

Turning around, Brad began, a smile on his face. “Well, hello there little pup! I'm Big Gay Al. Have you been outcast?”

Laughing, Person replied with “Fuck, yeah.”

There were also other examples, Person pushing Colbert far past the line any of them would have dared to.

“Sometimes I feel I've got to” Ray sand, pausing to look at Brad. “Run away, I've got to-”

Gesturing to Colbert, he waited. A second passed, then another, and then another. Reporter began to wonder what exactly was supposed to happen when Brad moved. Making two quick and silent claps, it was enough for Person to do a small victory fistpump and proceed with his singing.

“Get away from the pain you drive into the heart of me. Take my tears and that's not nearly all.”

With Colbert surprisingly participating in, they continued. “Oh, tainted love.”

Trombley was the first to join them, adding in with his scratchy and not oft used voice.

Waiting to see if it was alright for him to start, he quietly sang along with them.  
“Don't touch me please, I cannot stand the way you tease! Oh, I love you but you hurt me so.”

Finishing with the last line, “Oh, tainted love,” a quiet descended over the humvee. Or, more accurately, silence from the passengers until the moment Ray Person decided he was bored and wanted some fun and action.

With that moment still a few minutes away, a thought entered Reporter’s find, an observation really. How, in this crowded vehicle at the head on an invasion, it seemed that these two were singing to each other, rather than with. Yet, with insults being traded once again, and a ripped fuel induced ran on the way, Reporter quickly forgot that the thought had ever entered his mind. The words coming out of Person's mouth demanded his attention.

3: Doc

The first time the humvee came to a sudden stop, Tim could excuse that. Mistakes happen and as long as they didn’t end up dead or injured, it was fine. The second time it occurred, he was annoyed. The third time it happened, he was straight up pissed and would have punched somebody. Unfortunately, the target of his fury was at the front while his humvee was in the back. Stopping short of jumping out and running towards Colbert’s vehicle, there was nothing he could do about the random fucking stopping and starting that he was leading everyone in. 

The worst part was that this was a semi daily occurrence.

“Lovell,” he said through gritted teeth, “get on the comms and ask why the fuck Person feels the need to end up with all our food on the Iraqi ground instead of in our stomachs. And it better be an actual goddamn reason or else Colbert’s going to have to find himself a new RTO and driver.”

Doc Bryan was a pissed off guy at the best of times and his anger was known throughout the whole platoon, so Sargent Lovell did exactly that. Besides, he wouldn’t mind bitching Brad out. Insulting Ray was fine but if it interfered with their combat readiness, that was a problem. Some of the blame went on Person, of course. You couldn’t take revenge or hold petty grudges in the middle of a war zone but these guys were never one for obeying rules.

“Hitman, this is Hitman Two Three. May I request the reason as to why Person is driving like a drunk grandmother chasing after her cat that ran away from home. Over.” 

“Hitman Two Three, this is Hitman. We are currently going through some tough terrain, which makes Person’s driving a bit hazardous.”

“Great, just great. Colbert was being his usual bitchy self and Person took it to heart like the kindergartner he is and now we’re all going to fucking die because they’re having a marital disagreement,” Doc muttered, scowling at the response he received. “Swear to god, even Encino Man doesn’t put us in this much danger. Fuck, he doesn't know we're in danger. These idiots do. Get on the damn line and tell him to apologize to Person so I can actually look for the enemy and not fall over cause of all the bumping and swerving. And the rest of us want to hear it too. No bullshit excuses.”

Grinning at what was about to become excellent entertainment, the rest of the victor listened as Lovell went on the lines and relayed the message to Brad.

“Hitman Two Three, I am afraid that isn’t possible-”

“Brad, shut up and apologize to Person so I can make it home to my family in one peace,” Poke interjected, coming onto the comms. “My wife will kill you and Person if I lose a certain valuable body part due to your petty, white boy squabbles. Let’s hear it, we’re all waiting.”

Listening intently, Tim could hear a slight sigh and then a deep breath. “I’m sorry Ray. I’m really sorry I said you were scum of the earth with no purpose in life but to lick the assholes of others because you have no talent or intelligence whatsoever. Please forgive me and put these guys out of their misery.”

As heartfelt as that apology was, the silence over the radio was very telling, as clear a refusal as if you were sitting right in the victor with the old married couple. 

“Ray, you’re one of the most competent people I know that serve in the marines, you know that. I was just joking around before, like we always do. I crossed a line and I shouldn’t have but please forgive me.” By now, desperation had begun to creep into Colbert’s voice, which Tim would have enjoyed if Person hadn’t hit the brakes once fucking again. “Everyone in this platoon knows your worth more than most of the officers in battalion. We all trust you with our lives, otherwise you wouldn’t be on point for the entire invasion. Just, have mercy on me and give me your fucking forgiveness.”

Maybe it was Brad’s pleading tone, maybe it was the satisfaction of being begged to, maybe it was him coming off of his high, but Person’s high pitched voice could be heard soon after. “Aww, you don’t need to be like that baby. I forgive you.”  
The entire platoon got comfortable in their seats, guaranteed at least a few days of relatively smooth driving. While Colbert told everyone that today’s entertainment was over, gruff but not enough to hide Person’s giggling in the background, Tim mulled over what had just happened.

Colbert was an intimidating man and not one you’d want to cross. The demand to apologize to Person on comms, so everyone could hear, was said in anger and annoyance. Not for one second did Tim actually expect Colbert to actually follow it. Yet, he did, and for Ray Person no less. The Marine Corps was a strange organization, he thought with a shake of his head. The idea that Brad Colbert would bow down for no man but did it in a heartbeat for Ray Person was not one that was entirely believable but it happened. So like everything else that was going on, Tim pushed it to the side of his brain and moved on. There was already so much chaos around him, he didn’t need to look for trouble by dissecting every action someone made. Besides, he wasn't exactly sure if he even wanted the answer.

4: Walt 

Humming along to whatever song was currently being sung in the Humvee, Walt shifted slightly. Manning the Mark-19 was a boring job, with periods of time when you could go days without seeing anyone and times when there was enemy contact within hours of each other. It would have been nice to switch up jobs for once, do something other than stand around and look at desert, but that wasn’t likely.

Person was the best driver in the entire platoon, if not the battalion. Walt was decent but not anywhere near as experienced or as skilled as Ray. He could switch with him but it would fuck their shit up, landing them in worse situations than before. Trading places with Trombley was a possibility but one he wanted to limit. It was bad enough that he’d shot that child and camel nd felt no remorse. After the incident with the blue car, Walt had done nothing but go over his actions, doubting each choice he made and wondering if there were other options available that he refused to see. He might not be able to take back those deaths but he could prevent any future casualties that were sure to come with Trombley on the top, a Mark-19 in his hands.

It was this idea that made him hesitate for a second when he heard Brad’s voice, attempting to persuade Ray into going to sleep in the back seat, switching spots with Walt and Trombley. He thought for a second of telling Brad he’d prefer to stay up here, where he was better suited. But the fact was that Ray needed sleep and he needed a distraction. There was no chance of his mind wandering towards unpleasant memories if he had to concentrate on his driving, being careful not to run over random citizens in downtown Baghdad. So he stayed quiet, listening to Brad cajol Ray about combat readiness and fuck ups.

“Pull over Ray, you’re switching with Trombley. He’s manning the Mark-19 and Walt’s driving. You ok with that Walt?” Brad called up, more for Ray’s benefit than anything else.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he shouted back, continuing to scan his surroundings. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Ray retorted, “there’s no way we can stop here and not get smoked. I’m continuing to drive all the way to Baghdad and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Listen you whisky tango inbred idiot, this is just as much for you as it is for us. You can’t help us if we’re all dead because you accidently drove us off of a bridge.”

“In what life Brad would I do that?” Ray asked, stifling a very audible yawn. Sucked for him because now Brad was going to hound him even more than he was before, making it his life’s mission to convince Ray to go to the back seat on his own. Walt would have felt a bit bad for him if it wasn’t so funny. Ray was in a category of his own in Walt’s life but that didn’t mean he couldn’t laugh him. After all, what are good friends for?

It took the better part of an hour for Brad to finally convince Ray that yes, it was perfectly alright for him to sleep in the back and no, the entire platoon would not be killed in an ambush because of them. That didn’t mean that the messed up hick let Brad off easily. He agreed to change spots but would only do so when they stopped for the night, if they did that at all.

As it happened, God appeared to be on Brad Colbert’s side, however much he refused to believe in him. A couple of hours after sunset, the humvees came to a stop off the side of the road and set up camp for the night. They’d only be staying there for 5 or 6 hours at most, so most of the guys opted to sleep in the vehicles instead of digging ranger graves.

Their humvee coming to a stop, Walt watched Brad help Ray out and let him lean on him for support, the constant consumption of ripped fuel only to be cut off not doing him any favors now. Waiting for Trombley to get settled, Brad helped Ray up the seat and handed him a blanket, watching him instantly close his eyes and start snoring, something similar to fondness on his face.

Observing Brad, Walt couldn’t help but smiling to himself, thankful for the dark cover of the night, which hid any grin that Brad might be in danger of noticing. Most people considered Brad Colbert to be a physical representation of his nickname all the time. The truth was that he was nothing more than a teddy bear, especially towards those he cared about, not that anyone would voice that thought. They all valued their lives too much. But anyone paying attention could see it with how he interacted with Reporter, Walt himself, heck, even Trombley. But it was when he was with Ray that you could see the Papa Bear in him most clearly, the need to protect and care for his teammate at war with the leader and soldier in him. Still, he found a way to make it work and fuck him if it wasn’t entertaining as hell.

5: Nate

“Brad, can you come here for a second? I need to talk to you about Corporal Person,” Nate requested, knowing that any mention of Ray was sure to get Brad’s attention.

While the majority of the men had shaken off the unfortunate occurences of the football game, Nate wasn’t one to overlook outbursts like that, especially if it put any of the men in danger. Brad, of course, was overprotective of anyone in him team. The faster they got this mess sorted out, the better. Iraq was already a series of fuckups but he could always depend on his men. Anything concerning them was of utmost importance, hence why he needed to know what happened from Brad, who knew him better than almost anyone.

Waiting until they were in a corner of the room with no one near them, Nate began to question Brad. “Person, is he ok? He’s hyper at times but his decisions are usually well thought out. It isn’t like him to attack someone in a fit of anger, a teammate at that.”

Hesitating a moment before answering, Brad replied, “Corporal Person will be fine as far as I can tell. I haven’t seen him since the football game a few hours ago but he needs some time to calm down and put himself together. He’s having a hard time dealing with the aftershocks of not having anymore drugs and stimulants and it’s causing him to crash and burn.”  
“Well,” he sighed, thinking about the possible negative effects if Person didn’t return to normal, “you keep an eye on him and see if he’s alright. If there’s any sign that he isn’t stable or is still having problems, tell me. He’s a good person and he’s done his fair share in this war. He deserves some peace and I’ll see about having him shipped back home to recover.”

“Thank you sir, I’m sure Person will appreciate the time and effort you are dedicating to him, just as I am, but there’s no need,” Brad explained. “He’s a whisky tango, pathetic inbred sister fucking son of a cow who relishes in tormenting me on a daily basis. I assure you, he’ll be up and running very soon and you will have wished that you’d shipped him off back home when you had the chance.”

“Well, if you’re assured of this, I guess I’ll take your word.” Running his hand through his short hair, he sighed. “Gather the TLs. I want to give an update on our current situation.”

They’d finished talking and Lilley’s video had just started when Nate decided it was time to leave. It was bad enough seeing the destruction and death while it was happening. Doing it again, immortalized forever on a disc for others to watch, was not something he wanted to experience. Getting up with Gunny, he left the room and began to make his way to where the other officers were, gathering for an informational meeting on the status of the city.

Making his way there, he saw Ray coming down the hall, two cups of what he assumed were coffee in his hands. He knew Brad said Ray would be fine and he trusted his judgement but regardless, he wanted to check up on Ray himself. He was an integral part of making it here alive and that’s the least he could do for him.

“Corporal Person,” he called, making sure not to startle him. Getting burned by coffee should be a one time experience, especially when you have other things to worry about (war, making it out alive, death, Encino Man, your next combat jack). “I wanted to check up on you, see if you were alright. Can’t have our best RTO and driver suffering from something and no one notices.”

“Don’t worry LT, I’m dandy. The light was hitting Rudy in this way and his eyes were so intense and I got so angry that God would let someone so perfect exist,” Ray said with a grin, shifting the coffee in his hands. “Taking it out on him wasn’t the best idea but at least I can say I took on Fruity Rudy and came out alive.”

“Well, try to take out your emotions in a healthy way,” he advised, attempting to hide his smile at Ray’s antics. He had to serve as an example for the men and encouraging this behavior would only cause more chaos. “I’d hate to tell your mother that her son is dead because he attacked a teammate and got punched to death.”

“No problem on that front! I’ve only annoyed Brad for about 2 years and I intend to live long enough for that count to be much higher. You can be assured of this LT. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a peace offering for our resident 7 foot tall Viking Ballerina.” With a solemn nod that was betrayed by a cheeky smile right after and eyes dancing with mischief, Ray continued down the hall, cheers and laughing heard from the room at the end.

“How Colbert puts up with that on a daily basis, I’ll never understand,” Gunny commented, watching Ray’s form become smaller and smaller.

“Well, he must have some charm that we don’t know about, seeing as we don’t spend the majority of the day with him. And the fact that he’s deceptively intelligent doesn’t hurt,” Nate remarked, coming out into the heat of the sun.

“Either way, it’s good that he’s fine. Colbert and Person’s constant bickering and drama is normal in this clusterfuck of an invasion. Our guys need something good that won’t change and these two do that. It’s comforting to know that no matter how many times Battalion fucks us over, Colbert will always be there to insult Person with 5 syllable words and Person will always be ready to give us a small piece of his fucked up mind.”

“Cheers to that.”

 

+1: Ray

Surrounded by merchandise from their trip to Disney, sitting on the couch in only their pajamas, with Sparky and Alex dozing off on the carpet, Ray Person had a sudden thought. 

“Brad, we’re basically married! Like, gay ass liberals living in Massachusetts married.”

Sighing, Brad uttered a phrase that had been said many times in different shapes and forms, and by now had lost it’s effect. “I question my sanity for being in a relationship with you.”


End file.
